Will It Float? Will It Float?

Yep. I’m blogging photos of our David Letterman appearance almost two hours before the show actually airs on the East Coast.

What a fucking rush. I love my band. The thing is, you play one song, and it’s this huge adrenaline surge, and then all of a sudden it’s done and what do you do? We went and had tea together, and then the adrenaline dissipated, and now I’m exhausted.
Almost down at the bottom of these pics there’s a shot of a bucket suspended over the set backstage. To me, an avid Letterman watcher, this was the most thrilling sight: the gigantic bucket they use in the “Will It Float?” sketch.

The Names.

Of course, much more important than rehearsing a song for our network television d

Awesomeness of My Band.

My band–Handsome Dan on electric piano, Pete McNeal on drums, Andrew Livingston on upright bass–have been rehearsing for the Letterman appearance, and just generally running through the tunes for future usage. They’re really fun–we’ve been doing this variation on John Zorn game pieces that I slapped together, called Face Calls, as kind of a trust/mind-meld exercise; what a blast; really hilarious. Naturally, the mistakes are often better than the well-executed stuff.

Established: June 10, 1970.

Happy Birthday to me!! Thanks for your sweet emails–you’re all dreamboats.
Now–a question: I want to get a birthday tattoo. I have a very simple custom graphic that I want to get: basically, I need somebody who’s accurate to a big degree. Any suggestions for NY tattoo artists? I don’t need somebody who’s an incredibly individual stylist, just extremely, extremely comptent.
Email link’s on the lower right, if you’d like to suggest somebody…

Pre-Birf Fun.

I’m very happy to report that I’m gonna be playing David Letterman on Tuesday night. He’s a longtime hero of mine–I’m giddy. Happy birthday to me, indeed.

Plumping My Numbers.

Look. I bought my own album on iTunes. OK?

I just wanted to be able to look at the cover art on my iPod photo. It was done by this guy Alfredo Genovese, an Argentine master of the fileteado porte


My birthday is on Friday.

Yep. June 10, 1970. Which makes me two days shy of 35. Eligible for the presidency.
I want to do a get together–maybe at a restaurant–but I’m unsure how to email all my friends and say, “Let’s get together and celebrate me!” Without looking like a total cornball.

Local Boy Done Good.

I had a weird moment at the Pink Pony.

I went out for coffee with a friend to the Pink Pony, redoubtable institution of Ludlow Street. It’s just a few blocks from my building; I’ve spent a lot of time there hanging out with Dougie Bowne, who’s like the mayor around here. He spends so much time at the Pink Pony that we refer to it as “the Office.” As in, “Do you want to meet at the Office before the Ribot show?”
We were sitting there when Phyllis, one of the owners, came up. “Aren’t you Mike? Didn’t you have your picture taken here for that article in Bust magazine?”
Yep on all counts. I was–ahem–the “Boy du Jour” in the last issue of Bust, and they did the photo session at the Pink Pony.
“As a matter of fact, in the picture, weren’t you sitting right here?
I suddenly realized that we were sitting at that exact same table. Phyllis brought her copy of Bust over to show my friend, and there I was, reprising the situation, in different clothes. I felt like I should be holding up that page, striking the same pose I struck in the pic, and saying to passersby: Hello! I am a tool.